


The Strongest Friendship Of Them All

by MusicPlotter



Series: Whumptober 2019 [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Harry Potter Being an Idiot, Kreacher Has Had Enough, Kreacher is a good elf, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 01:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20939759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicPlotter/pseuds/MusicPlotter
Summary: After an incident between Harry and Ron, Harry isolates himself, convinced that Ron hates him. Kreacher is having none of it.





	The Strongest Friendship Of Them All

Cold eyes looked down on him as he screamed in pain.

Later, he’d tell himself that he had seen the internal struggle that had been going on inside of his best friends mind at that point, but logically he knew that the imperious curse controlled everything about a person, from their actions to the expressions on their face.

A dark wizard stood off to the side, grinning maliciously as he tore apart two best friends, he wanted Harry Potter to feel truly alone, as alone as he had felt when his family had been sent off to Azkaban before he had even become a teenager. 

Harry rolled and flailed around the floor, the pain only increased by the knowledge that it was his best friend being forced to do this to him. It felt as if he was being stabbed over and over again, the knife twisting before it pulled out and struck again, whilst feeling like he was being burned alive. All while he was barely able to breathe through his screams, making him think he really was going to die from a lack of oxygen if this didn’t stop soon. 

Were wizards able to conjure oxygen? Hermione would probably know. 

He could have used his magic to get away, but from the way it was running wild inside him at the moment, he was too scared it would target Ron instead of his real attacker.

It felt like a millennium had passed before the door burst open and Aurors came rushing in, finally responding to the alert he had sent through the charm on his ring. Stunning curses were sent simultaneously at Ron and the person who had been controlling him. Despite being safe now, Harry refused to give up to the darkness that tried to consume him. He didn’t want anyone daring to put Ron into some sort of cell for months before they gave him a trial, he refused to let anyone go through anything remotely similar to what his godfather had suffered through.

So he valiantly kept his eyes open until he saw Kingsley stride up to him, apparently an attack on the ‘Saviour Of The Wizarding World’ warranted a visit from the Minister. 

Finally getting a better grasp on his magic now he wasn’t being tortured, he concentrated it in his body and used it to stand up, only his pure determination keeping him up.

“Harry Potter,” drawled Kingsley exasperatedly, used to antics by now, “You have just been tortured within an inch of your life, you should not be able to stand up.”

He drew up the energy to plaster on a smug smile, “Magic.”

“Yes, but no one else with magic can do what you do. Nevermind that, do you mind telling me what happened?”

It was a command if ever he’d heard one, but tired as he was he let it pass.

“We were stupid. Followed this ‘little girl’ to where she said her parents were hurt. She disappeared around a corner and we were both disarmed from behind. They used the Imperius Curse on Ron and forced him to torture me, then you came in. It’s not his fault - we both know he would have fought as much as he could, he hates being controlled by anything.” 

The way he said it made it sound like it had all happened within five minutes, but he knew that at least an hour had passed of him being tortured on and off - only remembering about his ring a short time ago.

“Don’t worry Harry, I know that Ron’s loyalty to you knows no bounds, he’ll be treated as another victim. You should have learned to trust me by now.”

“Bad luck with the Ministry.”

“Yes, I suppose so. Come on, let’s get you home.”

Any other person would have been taken straight to St Mungos, but Grimmauld was the safest place for him right now. Who knew who else had planned to kill him tonight. Who else would get hurt just by being around him.

The next few days were a blur of sleeping and eating the meals that Kreacher brought to him. The house was still locked from where Harry had erected the full wards that came with the black house in paranoia when he had first arrived home, so no one else was able to enter without being brought in by either Kreacher or Harry.

He was soon back on his feet, moping around. Still, he didn’t leave the house.

It was because he was an idiot.

Or at least that’s what Kreacher thought.

Harry was keeping himself isolated so that his best friend wouldn’t have to look at him, wouldn’t have to look into his eyes and remember how it was Harry’s fault that he had had his control taken away from him. How Harry had once again failed his best friend, how sharing his sweets on that first train ride together had ruined his life, had taken a brother away from him and ultimately forced him into a war.

Maybe Harry just didn’t want to see the hate in Ron’s eyes as he looked down on him.

Harry Potter really was an idiot.

Ron Weasley knew this was true for a number of reasons.

One, he had shut himself away after being tortured to heal on his own, which was stupid because yes, his best mate was powerful, but he still needed medical care, the git. Two, it had now been at least two weeks and Harry had still refused to leave his house, a house that would be doing absolutely nothing to help his depressive state that he was no doubt in. Three, the idiot was probably blaming himself for every bad thing that had ever happened to Ron, even though it had been Ron that had tortured Harry. 

Had Ron stubbed his toe the other day on his desk for the thousandth time? Yes. Would Harry be blaming himself for it if he knew about it? Yes. 

Therefore, Harry Potter was an idiot. 

He didn’t need Hermione’s genius to work that one out.

Now all he needed was a way into Grimmauld, which was definitely something he needed Hermione’s help with

Kreacher’s Master wasn’t very smart.

He would never say that out loud (that’s a lie, he totally would) because he was loyal to his Master (surprisingly true).

Weeks had gone by, each day passing exactly like the one before it. Kreacher had watched his Master spend days at a time just lying in bed, occasionally falling asleep before waking himself up with a nightmare. He did the best he could, providing his Master with food and water, but the food was untouched and the water sipped.

It was time for something more extreme.

As a house-elf, it was his duty to look after his Master as best he could, if his Master was unwell, if he died, then Kreacher had failed.

He had already failed before. Master Regulus had died. He refused to let it happen again.

He had a vague understanding of what his Master was so distraught about - knew the name of the person that his Master screamed to in his sleep.

Yes, there was only one person that would be able to sort out his Master.

Ron would never admit to the scream that left him as he came out of the bathroom to find Kreacher next to his bed.

The past few days had been disappointingly unsuccessful, even Hermione Granger was unable to get through the overwhelming paranoia of the Black family - unless one wanted to be dismembered, which Ron wasn’t quite ready to resort to, yet.

So at the sight of the Black house-elf in his room, hope rushed through his body for the first time in weeks. Before he could get a word in, however, he was apparated somewhere and could only be thankful that Kreacher had decided to wait until after he had finished in the bathroom. Merlin, he did not want to imagine what might have happened.

When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place.

“Sort out Master Harry or I’ll kill you.”

The house-elf wouldn’t actually kill Ron, but he was sure to make his life miserable. A horrible image of being apparated while on the toilet filled his mind and he grimaced.

“Er- right okay, will do. Umm, thanks Kreacher.”

If Harry was in the depressive state that he expected from him, then he was probably wasting his life away in bed, trying to sleep away his feelings.

Ron headed up to Harry’s bedroom.

He debated knocking on the door, before deciding it would only give Harry more time to try and find a way to escape this conversation. Instead, he took a deep breath and opened the door, a small part of his mind still worried that Harry was just hiding away from him because of what Ron had been forced to do.

The sight in front of him made him want to cry but still, he held strong, for Harry.

Harry was curled up in the corner of the room, having not yet noticed Ron’s presence. Deep bags were under red eyes and there were faint lines all over his body as if he had been scratching at himself. He was back to being as underweight as he had when he came back from his summers away from Hogwarts and the haunted look in his eyes was eerily similar to that time as well. His hair, as messy as ever, lacked its usual life, lying down on his head as if it too was suffering from Harry’s feelings.

Merlin, he should have found a way in sooner, should never have let Harry out of his sight in the first place.

“Harry?”

The speed that Harry stood up would have been impressive in any other situation, but as sleep-deprived as he was, it only made him stumble. Ron lurched forward to catch Harry before he could injure himself anymore.

“What are you doing here?” A hoarse voice greeted him.

“Came to see you. Wanted to make sure you were okay and apologise.”

“What for? It’s my fault.”

“Harry, I was forced to torture you. Sure, I might not have chosen to do it, but I’m still apologising.”

“My fault.”

A calloused hand brought Harry’s chin up as Ron tried to make Harry meet his eyes.

Harry refused. He couldn’t believe this kindness was real, didn’t want to see the hate and disappointment that was no doubt lingering behind blue eyes.

“Harry, look at me.”

Still, Harry refused to fail Ron anymore than he already had. He slowly brought his eyes up to Ron’s, terrified beyond belief about what he might see.

“Hey.” A warm smile grew on Ron’s face, glad that Harry wasn’t completely lost in an episode.

“Hi.”

“It was no one’s fault, Harry. I promise you. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You don’t hate me?” His voice was awed, but small, as if he didn’t want to break the dream in front of him.

“I could never, Ree. Together till the end, remember?”

Hearing the pure, unadulterated conviction in Ron’s voice along with the nickname that was just for him broke the already crumbling walls Harry had carefully built up upon realising Ron was here. 

He broke down, not reaching out to Ron, but not needing to as he was gathered up into strong arms and pulled towards the bed. Ron lay down, pulling Harry on top of him and letting him cry himself into the first restful sleep in weeks, whispering reassurances all the while.

This time, he’d keep his idiot safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh, I’m pretty proud of this one :D Kreacher’s point of view was unexpected but I might include it more often from now on.
> 
> I’d like to write something about the development of their friendship, but that’s another one for after Whumptober.
> 
> Gigantic thank you to Whumptober2019 on Tumblr for the prompt!
> 
> (I don’t suppose anyone’s noticed the theme of the titles for this Whumptober yet? It’s glaringly obvious >-< but I like themes so …)


End file.
